


Need Your Touch

by calie15



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calie15/pseuds/calie15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky really just wants to be loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need Your Touch

Bucky goes to run his hands through his hair, forgetting that the majority of it's gone, and frowns on the way to the bathroom. It was a necessary loss. The only way of getting her out alive was to pretend like he was someone he wasn't, a charming and handsome man. Maybe he'd been that a long time ago, but he opted more for the unkept, intimidating look.

Now he stood in the bathroom and stared back at himself, his face freshly shaven, hair short and neat. He didn't like it. If he was honest with himself he didn't necessarily mind the look, but there was no pretending who he used to be, he still had the reminder of the cybernetic arm at his side.

Shutting off the bathroom light he made his way to the bedroom and opened the door. In the dim light he could make out her figure beneath the blankets.

Bucky could have slept in the bed instead of the sofa, she'd said so herself. Except he'd almost kissed her, they both knew that he had almost kissed her, and if kissing her wasn't a good idea then sleeping in the same bed wasn't. So he'd opted for the sofa. 

Except he'd had more then enough time to dwell on it all, and in the end he just cursed himself for being a fucking idiot, because he didn't really want to sleep on the fucking sofa. How long was he supposed to torture himself before it was okay to move on? To do something for himself?

He moved into the bedroom and settled on the bed, trying not to wake her. Bucky really shouldn't have been sneaking into her bed, it sounded like a terrible idea, but he couldn't see waking her like a damn child and asking her if it was okay. At least she'd offered.

At first he just laid there, listening to her breathe, then his hands and arms ached to reach out. After to much time thinking it over Bucky rolled onto his side, slid closer, pressing himself against her back, and wrapped an arm around her waist.

She was warm and soft and-.

"Mhmm," Jemma mumbled and pressed back against him, "your warm."

Jemma didn't change her mind, tell him to get out of her bed, or to sleep on his side. With her approval he tightened his arm around her waist and closed what little distance was between them as he pulled her flush with his body. 

In the middle if the night he woke to the feel of her turning in his arms. He opened his eyes to look down at her and found her staring right back. When she lifted a hand he didn't budge and let her slide her fingers through his hair. Bucky wouldn't complain, because he couldn't remember being touched like that, and he realizes he kind of craves it. There is something to be said about making friends, being a part of something where he can do good. Bucky was grateful for all of it. But he had to admit there was something different about a romantic relationship.

"It's so short," she whispered and smiled. "You look pretty."

He laughed softly, a smile lingering on his face. "Pretty?"

"And soft," she whispered as her hand touched his cheek.

Bucky wished she knew how much the simple touch made him ache. He gripped the back of her shirt and remained still as she brushed fingers over his cheek. 

"Bucky," she whispered, his name sound almost like a plea.

Whatever will he had to resist was gone. He leaned in and kissed her gently, almost scared that if he moved to fast he'd chase her off, so he kept it slow, but he pulled her back against him.

The kiss didn't last long, and Bucky was fine with that, because she was still in his arms, settling her head on his chest, and draping an arm over his stomach. As she settled she slid her leg over his, her foot pressed against the inside of his calf. This is what he wanted. He wanted to come home every day to this, not a cold bed and bad memories. 

Maybe it wouldn't be Jemma that he came home to, but he didn't have a problem believing it would be. Their relationship was to complicated to just be a passing fancy.

"You know, you're kind of pretty too," he said finally. She slapped his side. "Hey," he admonished and slid a hand over her arm.

"You get kicked out of bed with weak compliments like that," she responded, but adjusted her body closer to his, rubbing her cheek against his chest and sighing. 

"Good luck making me leave," he responded. Jemma glanced up at him and smiled briefly before looking away again. Moments later her breath was even and she was sleeping.


End file.
